


one's not half of two (two are halves of one)

by potstickermaster



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-17 20:07:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13666371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potstickermaster/pseuds/potstickermaster
Summary: short tales that preview the lives of some f/f pairings on valentine’s day, set in a college au, alongside cummings’ poetry.





	1. one - kara/lena

**Author's Note:**

> will feature supercorp, agentreign, psiturn, avalance, and zamaya, not entirely in that order. not sure how things go down in your unis but this was how things went in mine, so lol (upd peeps henlo) 
> 
> all poetry from my main man e.e. cummings

_ (once like a spark) _ __  
_ if strangers meet _ _  
_ __ life begins-

 

“Hi.” 

Lena raises her hand to ask for a moment as she finishes the sentence on her engineering book. Once she is, she closes it between a finger to serve as her marker. Dragging her gaze up, green eyes settle on a blonde woman with bright blue eyes, who fidgets with her glasses and gulps nervously as if she is surprised that Lena even paid her attention. The raven-haired woman tries not to scowl at her despite the interruption. “Yes?” She asks politely, softly as she manages to remember that she is, in fact, in the library. The blonde clears her throat and straightens herself. 

“Hi,” she repeats. Lena wonders if the flush on her cheeks is because she is shy, or if Lena has ended up scowling at her. “I’m Kara, from- uh, from the Music Society. I’m, um, offering serenading services—” She pauses and slides a flyer over Lena’s desk. The engineering student only flicks her attention to it for a second before looking back up at the blonde woman. “—and, uh, you’re kind of my mission right now, so—”

Lena blinks a couple of times. “Sorry?” 

Kara, as she introduced herself, pushes her glasses up again. She gestures to the guitar that she holds up on her left hand, not that Lena had noticed, and tries to smile. “You’re my mission. I mean, someone ordered a song for you, and well, as part of our services—”

Lena raises her hand again. “Someone hired someone from the Music Society to sing a song for me,” the raven-haired woman repeats slowly. When Kara nods, Lena frowns. “In the library. Where silence is  _ mandatory.” _

At it, Kara looks up and fidgets. “I know. I was going to ask if—” She sighs heavily, like she doesn’t really want to do this. Lena is familiar with it; some organizations in the university force some of its members to do ridiculous things especially on special days so they could have some cash flow. It was one of the reasons Lena never joined any. “If we could take it outside, so I don’t have to bother anyone?” Kara must notice Lena’s scowl because she offers her an apologetic smile. “I promise it will be quick? Just the chorus if you’d like. I just really,  _ really  _ need to finish my mission list before noon, or my seniors are going to have my ass.” She grins, and Lena only notices now just how  _ bubbly  _ this woman seems, despite her mentioned predicament. “Pretty please?” 

Lena sighs heavily and pulls her finger away from between the pages of her book. Kara throws her a pout that dissolves into a smile when Lena slides her book into her tote. The engineering student just wanted to get things over with; after it, she would probably just head to her dorm room so she doesn’t have to deal with any other surprises or get in the crossfire of students trying to milk the capitalist concept that is Valentine’s Day. 

“Am I allowed to know who sent you?” Lena asks as they make their way out of the university library. Kara walks beside her, lugging her guitar with her. She shakes her head.

“Nope,” Kara replies. “Completely anonymous unless they send a card, in this case, they didn’t, but uh, yeah.” She chuckles nervously. They reach a bench and Kara gestures for Lena to sit down on it. The dark-haired woman just sighs and sits. 

“Very well, let’s get this over with,” Lena mumbles. Kara beams—it’s weird, how sunny and bright she seems to be, like somehow she fits this stupid, cheesy day—as she pulls up her guitar and slings the strap over her shoulder. The guitar looks well-played, half of it filled with various stickers. The logo of the Music Society is among them. 

“Stop me anytime, but please do let me make it to the first chorus,” Kara chuckles as she begins the opening riff of a song that sounds familiar to Lena, not that she really cares. She glances behind Kara to see some people looking their way. She sighs and looks down on her lap just as Kara begins to sing.

It takes her less than a moment to snap her attention back to Kara when she hears her voice. The blonde gives her a shaky grin when she meets her gaze, and Lena barely even hears the meaning of the words, but Kara’s voice is nothing short of  _ beautiful,  _ raw, especially with only the guitar she plays herself accompanying the song. Lena finds herself captured.

“I know it might sound a little crazy but I believe,” she sings, her lips quirking up a little at the last word before she dissolves into the first chorus. Lena feels  _ something  _ burst in her chest, like she had uncovered some secret, and she hopes her awe isn’t too visible on her face. Thankfully though, Kara seems to be too into the song, which is both endearing and captivating at the same time, and Lena curses whoever sent Kara to her with this song because the lyrics of it are just so stupid, so cheesy.

Terrifying.

Instead of moving forward to the second verse, Kara instead repeats the chorus, singing  _ I knew I loved you before I met you  _ with a smile and a look fixed on Lena, and the engineering student tries to calm her racing heart if only to hear Kara’s voice over the way it drums against her ears. 

Despite her earlier hesitance about letting this Music Society member serenade her, Lena finds herself biting back a frown as Kara slides her guitar to her back when her song ends. She lets out a relieved sigh and her blue eyes sparkle behind her glasses. It’s odd, the way Lena feels as she watches her—like a delayed reaction to something explosive happening right in front of her.

(Like she had fallen in love at first sight and she is only realizing it now, when she has her face on the dirt.)

“Thanks, Lena,” Kara says, and the way she says her name makes something in the raven-haired woman flip. Lena blinks a few times.

“How do you—”

Kara giggles, and its music is a hundred times better than what she had just sang to Lena. “The one who ordered your song. Um.” She chuckles, nervously this time, and scratches the back of her neck nervously. “Did you, uh, like it?”

Lena looks down at her hands. She runs her right hand over the canvas of her tote, along the outline of her books, before shrugging up at Kara. “It was sweet,” she settles with. She tries on a smile. “You have a great voice.” 

Kara breathes out a laugh, as if she was waiting for the validation. “Thank you.” She fidgets with her glasses and just stands there, looking at Lena, and the woman wonders if she was supposed to...pay, or something. 

“Right, uh… Anyway, I should go,” Kara says suddenly, gesturing behind her. Lena nods hesitantly. This was the plan—let Kara sing, then leave for her dorm so she could study. She watches Kara take a step back, still smiling that bright smile like she had the sun behind her eyes. “Thanks again, Lena.” 

“Wait,” Lena exclaims, standing. Kara pauses, looks at Lena almost with expectations on her features, and the raven-haired woman swallows thickly, wraps her arms around her tote. “If I- What if I wanted to- to, I don’t know, get your services to sing for- for someone?” 

Kara grins widely. “ _ My  _ services specifically, or Music Society’s?” 

Lena bites her lip. “Yours.” 

Kara tilts her head as she walks back to stand in front of Lena. “You have a pen and paper?” 

The dark-haired woman chuckles and fishes for a pen from her tote. She hands it to Kara.

“Paper?” The blonde asks. Lena just offers her palm. 

Kara grins. Lena regrets her decision when Kara takes her hand in hers to hold her in place as she writes her number down, but she could only bite her lip at the warmth and the slight tickle of the sliding metal against the smoothness of her skin. Once she was done, Kara leaves the pen on her open palm.

“There,” Kara murmurs, steps back and grins. “I’ll be a text away, Lena,” she says again, before she runs off with an excuse of another mission to complete. 

Lena watches her leave, and when there is nothing to stare at in the space she had occupied, her gaze flickers to the digits on her palm. 

She smiles and thanks whoever ordered that stupid, cheesy song. 


	2. two - ava/sara

_forever was never till now_ _  
_ _now i love you and you love me_

 

Ava sighs and walks into the training room, fencing hood held against her hip as she adjusts the neck of her jacket with her free hand. “I don’t get why you want to practice again, Captain,” she says to the blonde donning her gear over at the other side of the room. Her armor suits her well, and it’s most especially at these times Ava thinks Sara is at her most attractive. Not that Sara out of her fencing gear is nothing less than a sight for sore eyes—and she really meant to think about Sara in her _civilian_ clothes, but now she is thinking of Sara _out_ of her clothes, which she had seen, too, in the locker room, but this isn’t the time nor the place to think about that. Especially when she already feels the blush blooming on her cheeks. “You’re already the best, we get that,” she continues with an awkward chuckle. “Don’t you have a Valentine’s date?”

The words sound bitter on her own tongue, but she is assistant captain, after all, and a supportive friend. Everyone knows Captain Sara Lance of the university women’s fencing team has the reputation far worse than the men’s basketball players combined, and the reminder she gives herself makes Ava sigh. As far as desperate crushes go, this is so far, her worst—and that is saying something, given the fact she had various crushes on _straight_ women before.

Sara waggles her hand as she checks the fit of her gloves. “You don’t stop training, Sharpe,” the blonde says simply. She throws Ava a look that has the taller blonde absentmindedly biting her lip. “And I don’t really believe in Valentine’s day.” She purses her lips. God, Ava couldn’t stop herself from stealing a peek at them even if she tried. “Unless _you_ have a date?”

Ava laughs at that, looks down at the mask she holds. How she wishes _this_ was a date. “No, captain, I don’t.”

Sara nods. “It’s for our own benefit too, you know.” She smiles one of her rarer warm ones, ones that make her teammates feel _validated,_ because Ava does recognize that Sara Lance is the best in the country.

It’s also a smile that makes butterflies thrash wildly in Ava’s belly, makes herself dig a deeper grave. Oblivious to it all, Sara walks to the weapons rack. “Saber okay?”

The taller blonde walks towards her. “Whatever you want.”

Sara pauses at that. She meets Ava’s gaze—her eyes always seem to hold secrets upon secrets, many of which the taller blonde is curious of—but before she could ask if she has something to say, Sara puts on her mask, grabs an saber, and walks to the mat. Ava follows her; she puts on her mask and secures it, takes her saber off the rack, and heads to the mat, too. They don’t bother with the electrical jackets during training anyway. Sara is ready with her stance when she faces her. Her form is impeccable, like always, nothing short of expectations from a future Olympian if she only bothered to try.

“En garde,” Ava says, teasing in her voice, but Sara—like she always is when she holds her sword—is serious. Ava wishes she could see her face when they spar. She lifts her weapon at an angle and places her left hand on her back.

“Allez,” the captain announces, and before Ava could blink, Sara advances, her saber up and thrust towards Ava’s direction that she barely manages to move back in order to avoid it. So far, Ava holds the record for the longest time before the “Lanceration” as their teammates fondly call it, and she isn’t about to give it up.

“Aggressive,” Ava chuckles mostly to herself, and she advances a step before lunging an attack. Her saber clangs with Sara’s as the captain makes a sweeping motion to defend herself. A beat later and Ava is handed a riposte, the tip of Sara’s saber putting pressure on the left side of her chest. Ava curses but steps back as Sara does.

They go again upon Sara’s word. Ava notices after Sara’s second point that she is, in fact, _way_ too into it despite it being a sparring session—they are supposed to give their best at all times, but for some reason the captain seems a little off, with her attacks being too aggressive that despite her skill, Ava fails to keep up. She realizes she is thinking too much about it when Sara huffs and lunges before successfully slashing Ava’s weapon out of her hand. Ava laughs as her saber makes a dull thud as it falls to the mat.

Except Sara takes a step forward and holds her sword right in front of Ava’s face. Laughter drains from the taller blonde and she raises her hands in defeat. Sara doesn’t move for a moment, but another one later and she stabs Ava on the shoulder, rather painfully.

“What the fuck, Lance?” She exclaims, swatting the sword away then ripping her mask off. Sara just turns around, removes her mask and walks away.

“Hey, you don’t get to walk away from me after that!” Ava yells, following her captain with annoyance on her sleeves. For a future Olympian, what she had done was downright _impolite_ . She scoffs when Sara doesn’t even turn around, just busies herself with fixing her bag. “What the hell is wrong with you, Sara?” She demands, pulling the shorter blonde by the shoulder so she could face Ava. She does with resistance and there is a frown on her lips, something that is much like _worry_ in her eyes, but before Ava could ask what was bothering her—it’s stupid, how much she cares, and she should stop before things get worse, but not today, _not today_ —she is being pulled forward, then there are warm hands on her cheeks and—

_Oh._

Ava’s own voice mocks her in her head, repeating _whatever you want_ over and over as the softness of Sara’s lips sear onto hers. Her own hands twitch on her side for a moment, two, until some semblance of rationality sinks into her; rationality that makes her decide not to pull away, but instead, place her hands on Sara’s waist to pull her closer. Sara responds with a moan that Ava feels and tastes against her own lips, and she forgets how long they have been kissing— _god, kissing, she is kissing Captain Sara Lance_ —but her lungs cruelly remind her of her need for air.

“That,” Sara breathes out as soon as there is a gap between their lips. “Was what I want,” she whispers. Ava chuckles softly, lifts up a hand to brush away the stray hair that hides blue eyes from hers.

“Good to know,” Ava murmurs. “You could’ve just asked, instead of trying to stab me.”

Sara flusters uncharacteristically, but only for a second before a smirk slips on her features. “Yes, but where’s the fun in that?”

Ava snorts, lets her hands find home on Sara’s waist again, pulling her flush against her own body. The layers of their gear seems so much more annoying now. “We could’ve looked for it, I suppose?”

The captain tilts her head. “The reason you’re assistant captain is you’re all talk, Sharpe.”

Ava rolls her eyes. "Whatever," she mumbles, before leaning in and brushing her lips against Sara's.  _"You_ kissed me anyway." 

"No one is going to believe you," Sara shoots back. Ava shrugs. 

"I don't need them to," she whispers. "I got all I need right here." She squeezes Sara's waist, and the blush that blooms underneath her freckled cheeks is something that Ava finds beautiful, and she is unable to stop herself from capturing her captain's lips in another kiss. 


	3. three - psi/imra

_and if what calls itself a world should have_ _  
_ _the luck to hear such singing (or glimpse such_ _  
_ _sunlight as will leap higher than high_ _  
_ _through gayer than gayest someone’s heart at your each_ _  
_ _  
_ _nearness) everyone certainly would (my_   
_most beautiful darling) believe in nothing but love_

 

 

Gayle looks up from the poetry book she is reading when she notices a pair of women pass by the bench she is sitting on. The blonde one is bringing a guitar. Gayle rolls her eyes before focusing on her book again, crossing her legs on the bench. One of those stupid rent-a-singer services the musical organizations in the university again, she thinks. She flicks her eyes to the pair once more; poor girl, having to endure a love song sent anonymously her way. Gayle never really understood the appeal of it. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she opens her Spotify app to change her playlist to some epic orchestra music and turn the volume higher until she couldn’t hear the distant strumming of the blonde woman anymore over her earphones. She returns her attention to her book, open to one of e.e. cummings’ poems, and reads.

Her focus is dancing over a certain line— _the best gesture of my brain is less than your eyelids' flutter which says we are for each other_ —when she notices boots on the floor in front of her. Gayle blinks when suddenly, a face appears too. A dark-haired woman is bent down to meet her gaze, beaming at her. With an annoyed puff of breath, Gayle pulls the left earbud out of her ear and forces a smile at the woman in front of her, who gives her a wave. Only then does the blonde direct her attention at her: her black hair flows over her shoulder and she is wearing a black shirt under her gray hoodie, the logo of some college organization on the left side of it. Her outfit is completed with pants and boots that Gayle would totally wear herself, and in her hands are tickets that the blonde recognized as for the university fair. She groans to herself but manages to keep a smile on her face. She doesn’t want to be rude; she knows some of her fellow students just take their student organization duties seriously.

Also because, if she is being honest, the woman in front of her looks really pretty despite being in the most casual of clothing. Gayle closes her book. “Yes?”

The woman bites her lip and smiles at Gayle. Just like that, she just _knows_ she would be answering positively to whatever this stranger would be saying. She takes the other earbud off.

“Hi,” the woman says with a small chuckle. Gayle confirms her initial thought. “So, so sorry to bother you, but I’m from PsychSoc, one of the organizers of tonight’s fair event and I was wondering if you’d like to buy a pair of tickets?” She grins and lifts the tickets in her hand. There are two of them like she had said. She goes on to list down the bands Gayle could expect—she knows most of them and is a fan of at least two—and ends her little spiel with a laugh that is entirely too captivating that Gayle has to blink to make sure she hadn’t fallen asleep and is currently dreaming. “They’re the remaining tickets I have to sell to reach my quota, so _please?”_ She punctuates it with a pout and a bat of her eyelashes and _it’s unfair,_ Gayle thinks, to use such weapons against her, on the supposed day of love of all days.

Still, Gayle doesn’t want to disappoint her. Not because the woman is pretty or anything, thought that _does_ play a part, but because she knows how difficult it is to sell such tickets at times—she had the misfortune of having to sell some for class, though she was sure that was illegal. What would she do with the tickets though? She didn’t plan on going to the university fair; it’s terribly hot and humid and it’s all the kind of noises and smells Gayle dislikes, and don’t get her started on the fucking crowd she has to deal with. The woman looks expectantly at her though, so Gayle just sighs.

“I can only get one though,” she deadpans. The woman pouts further.

“But it’d be harder to sell just one,” she points out. Gayle shrugs.

“Yeah, but having another one would be useless to me,” she shoots back. “Unless you want to come with.”

She didn't even mean to say it. It just came out. She _was_ thinking of it, though; thought that maybe a hot, humid, crowded concert that smelled of popcorn and piss would be bearable if she had company like this stranger in front of her. That was all it was, supposedly—some distant thought. She didn’t mean to say it, and she full on expects the woman to smack her on the face with those tickets before walking away.

Except she doesn’t. She bites her lip again and smiles, like she is _amused,_ and Gayle _never_ blushes but she feels warmth bloom on her cheeks as the stranger tilts her head. “You’re paying for my ticket,” she says, a statement more than a question.

Of course, Gayle just nods dumbly, before she could even think, and she thinks her lapse of judgement is worth it when the woman grins brightly. The blonde thinks it’s insane, what she’s doing, but she is fishing out cash out of her pocket anyway and handing it to the dark-haired stranger.

“Thanks,” the woman says. She takes the book on Gayle’s lap gtoo, and before the blonde could protest, she is opening it to the page Gayle had been reading earlier, bookmarked by her pen, then takes something out of her back pocket. “I’m keeping the tickets though, just in case, but—” She pauses. Gayle just watches her, hidden behind the book, and moments later the strange woman is handing it back to her. “Gates open at six. See you.”

Then she is walking away.

Gayle blinks. She should probably follow her. She probably just got scammed. Her legs won’t cooperate, though, like she had just been cast a spell of sorts, and though she doesn’t believe in the spiritual nor the mythical, she accepts her fate. She looks down at her book, closed on her lap. Opening it to the page where her pen is clipped, she finds the poem she is yet to finish reading and a small pink note. Scribbled neatly on it was a number, a name, and a message.

 _Meet you at the gates, call me. Don’t be late._ _  
_ _Imra :)_

Gayle bites back a smile. Tonight might not be so awful at all.


	4. four - sam/alex

_ trust your heart _ _   
_ _ if the seas catch fire _ _   
_ _ (and live by love _ _   
_ __ though the stars walk backward)

 

Nice leather jacket, check. Hair combed perfectly, check. Kara’s Netflix log-in details, check. Picnic basket of dinner, check. Paper bag of toddler food, check. Alex sighs nervously and puts down the picnic basket in her right hand so she could ring the bell to Sam’s apartment door. 

It is their first Valentine’s day together. Considering it’s only Alex’s second real relationship, she wants it to be special. The original plan was to take Sam to a special night out, after their classes—a play was showing at the local theater and she could make reservations to a restaurant Sam would like—but the brunette mentioned that her babysitter had asked for a day off since it was Valentine’s day after all, and she had no one to look after two-year-old Ruby. Alex easily told her that they didn’t have to go out, and the way Sam looked so guilty about foregoing a supposedly romantic night didn’t sit well with the redhead. 

Which is why she brought the night out to Sam. 

Alex hears Sam apologize from behind the door before it opens. She picks up the picnic basket again and stands straight, nerves still bubbling in her chest. Sam greets her with a pleasantly surprised smile, her toddler in her arms. 

“Awex!” Ruby exclaims excitedly. Sam laughs and steps aside to let the redhead in. 

“Come in,” she says, almost shyly. She puts down Ruby, who runs to Alex and hugs her leg. The redhead coos at her before looking back up at Sam. The brunette takes the picnic basket from Alex as she continues to talk. “I thought- Well, I didn’t expect you to come over. What is all this?” 

Ruby giggles as Sam leads them to the small kitchen of her one-bedroom apartment. It’s located in a building just outside the university, near the College of Business Administration where Sam takes most of her classes. The place is small but cozy and comfortable, well-lit especially during the late afternoon when the sun would lazily hang on the sky and have its warm rays filter into the living room before it gives way to the night. Alex puts down the paper bag on the kitchen table before pulling up the toddler in her arms.

“Well,” Alex starts with a bashful grin as she ruffles Ruby’s hair. “It’s Valentine’s day and I did promise a date, so I hope you don’t mind that I brought it here?” She says, more a question than a statement as she drags her gaze to Sam. “Dinner is in the picnic basket and, um, my sister helped me out in preparing some food for Ruby, which you can store in the fridge…” She trails off as Sam just seems to stare at her. She fidgets slightly. She didn’t really expect disapproval as a reaction. “Uh… I thought about bringing flowers but I realized you’d appreciate something more practical, and um, I- I can leave if you’d like?” 

“No, no!” Sam says, her expression finally breaking into a sort of relief. “Sorry, I just- That’s really sweet and I’m just- you caught me off-guard, is all.” 

Alex feels her nerves dissipate into a more relaxed wave of butterflies in her stomach. She scrunches her nose and chuckles when Ruby tugs on the collar of her leather jacket. “I’m- I’m glad,” she breathes out. She makes a move to put down Ruby. “I can prepare dinner, some of it is—”

“No!” Ruby cries out, wrapping her arms around Alex’s neck. The woman chuckles at the surprisingly strong grip on her. Sam watches on, hiding a laugh behind a hand. 

“She really likes you,” she muses. Alex just shrugs. 

“I’m great with kids,” she points out. Sam’s smile turns fond. 

“I can see that,” she says softly. She turns to the paper bag and starts to pick through the jars of food the Danvers sisters had prepared the night prior, when the blonde had finished with reviewing her “missions” for Valentine’s day—something about singing to a bunch of strangers. Alex remembers Kara mentioning some girl who had caught her eye. She distantly wonders how that went. They had a bunch of reheatable soups and mixes that Alex had spent the whole week prior researching for, and it totally paid of, if only for the appreciative smile on Sam’s face.

“This has got to be the sweetest Valentine’s day  _ ever, _ ” Sam gushes. 

Alex just beams as she sways around with Ruby giggling in her arms. “Yeah? Just check out the picnic basket.” 

Sam raises an eyebrow. Alex’s proud smile falters the tiniest bit at it—it’s  _ attractive _ and Sam is gorgeous and Alex is  _ gay,  _ sue her—but she awaits her girlfriend’s reaction as she opens the picnic basket. Alex had cooked the whole morning—even contemplated skipping her microbiology class but ended up going anyway—and several tupperware of Sam’s favorite food lined the picnic basket. The rest of the space is filled up with a bottle of red wine they first shared during their first date and a bunch of chocolates Alex had seen Sam snacking on when they would study together in the Arias’ apartment, with Ruby napping in her crib. 

“God,” Sam breathes out, looking down at the basket before dragging her gaze up to meet Alex’s. Their eyes lock and Alex swallows thickly at the intensity of how the brunette is looking at her. “I could kiss you right now, but that’s totally PG-13 and my daughter is in your arms.” 

Alex grins sheepishly before walking up to Sam. “A kiss on the cheek would be fine,” she whispers, then offers her cheek to the woman. The mother laughs lightly and leans it, but Ruby beats her to it—the toddler kisses Alex noisily on the cheek, and the two women laugh heartily, especially when Ruby giggles and raises her arms, asking to be transferred to her mommy’s arms, before she is kissing her cheek, too. 

They eat dinner together with Ruby on her high chair. Alex had made her spaghetti with vegetables cleverly-hidden in the marinara sauce that even Sam had scrunched her nose upon realization of the fact. Wine is shared, too, and Sam had to make the toddler some strawberry smoothie so she would stop asking for some. 

After dinner, they watch Frozen. Ruby sits on Sam’s lap and eagerly sings along to every song, though it is more of blabbering than singing, not that Alex would ever tell Sam that. It  _ is  _ adorable though, and Alex often wonders how to get back some of that childhood energy. They manage to watch the short film sequel on Olaf before Ruby yawns. The girl opens her arms and mumbles for  _ Awex,  _ and Sam just shrugs and lets the redhead carry her daughter to the bedroom, Alex humming a song from Frozen before tucking Ruby to bed. 

“She’s asleep,” Alex whispers as she walks into the living room where Sam waited for her, curled up comfortable on the couch. The brunette just smiles so fondly, like Alex is the most beautiful thing she had ever laid her eyes on, and the redhead flusters. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Sam shrugs and offers her hand to Alex. The latter takes it, and Sam tugs her to sit on the couch with a giggle. Strong arms wrap around Alex and she easily sinks into her girlfriend’s warmth. 

“I’m just thinking about how lucky I am to have you,” Sam says after a long stretch of silence. Alex shifts a little to catch Sam’s gaze. There is a hint of tears in brown eyes and the redhead cups her cheek reverently. “How lucky Ruby and I are, to have you,” Sam continues. “Despite, well, everything.”

“That’s good,” Alex whispers, her lips quirked up into a small, loving smile. It’s dangerous and terrifying, how quickly she had fallen for the woman. Such is love, Alex thinks, and though she didn’t want to say those words to Sam yet—because it’s too soon, because Sam might not be ready, because she might scare Sam away—she hopes her lover could feel it. She brushes her thumb ever so softly over Sam’s cheek, over where her tears threatened to spill. “I hope that continues, because I’m planning on staying for a long, long time.” 

Sam laughs, the sound strained with tears and heartbreak and so much promise. “Stay as long as you’d like,” she whispers, leans in to brush her lips tenderly over Alex. She tastes of wine and affection, like she is ready to surrender everything to Alex. "Please." 

And Alex holds her in her arms, catching her before she falls.


End file.
